


fake it 'til you make it

by mixtapestar



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: It's party night at the Physical Kids' Cottage, and Eliot is bored. Luckily, Quentin is there to save him, swooping in to his conversation and introducing himself— as Eliot's boyfriend?
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 37
Kudos: 141
Collections: Peaches and Plums Stockings 2020





	fake it 'til you make it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freneticfloetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freneticfloetry/gifts).



> Happy holidays, freneticfloetry! Thanks for giving me an excuse to write a lil' fake dating. ;)
> 
> And thank you Rubi for beta reading! <3

It's party night at the Physical Kids' Cottage, and Eliot is bored.

He'd spotted a cute new face early in the evening, then took his time dancing with others nearby until finally going over to introduce himself. The guy introduces himself as Mike, a Brakebills alum stopping by to see how things have changed since his departure.

They drop into an easy flirtation at first, but Eliot's heart isn't in it. As much as he normally loves the attention, something about Mike rubs him the wrong way. He finds himself leaning away slightly, holding his drink near his face while he talks for easy access.

Mike seems undeterred, almost predatorily interested, and Eliot hides a frown. Normally he'd be totally into this. A cute, pocket-sized alum, hovering in his space even while he plays hard to get? Sign him up twice. But Eliot finds his gaze drifting even as Mike carries on about his life in the city, nodding with polite interest as his eyes catch on Quentin's as he comes down the stairs.

Quentin raises his eyebrows, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and worry. Eliot gives the tiniest shrug; he's not sure why he's feeling weird right now. He is glad to see Quentin joining the fun, though. He takes a step back from Mike, intending to make his excuses, but Quentin holds up a finger before he disappears from view.

Eliot stifles a sigh. "And what did you say you did your senior thesis on?" he asks in an attempt to steer the conversation toward something more interesting.

Mike lights up, explaining how he explored using illusion magic to trick your own mind into certain scenarios, like simulating a tranquil mountain view to calm anxiety. He takes a step forward as he talks, and Eliot wants to roll his eyes. Some guys just refuse to read body language.

He waits until Mike is done speaking to take a long drink from his glass, finishing it off and letting his eyes flit about the room. Maybe he can pawn Mike off on someone else. He's just about to suggest they walk the room when his drink is plucked from his hands and a fresh, cool glass is put in its place. "Sorry I took so long," Quentin says, so _close_ to Eliot, his voice low. He pushes up on his toes and presses his lips to the underside of Eliot's jaw; Eliot has to fight the impulse to jump in surprise. Quentin rests his hand warmly at the small of his back, eyes shining up at him as he smiles. Eliot isn't sure what to do with this new turn of events. "And who's this?" Quentin asks, eyes darting to Mike.

Eliot clears his throat, glancing over at his conversation partner, who looks slightly perturbed now. "This is Mike. Brakebills Alum. He was just telling me about his thesis. Interesting stuff, but probably more your speed. Mike, this is—"

"Quentin, Eliot's boyfriend," Quentin cuts in, holding his hand out and fixing Mike with a winning grin.

Eliot hides his reaction in his new drink, pleased upon taking his first sip to find that Quentin had mixed it correctly, even remembering the mint leaf. This is definitely a new tactic, but he can't fault Quentin for it. He hadn't been confident enough to make the call on Mike, but Quentin has apparently decided for him, and now that it's happened, Eliot feels like it was the right choice.

"Funny, Eliot didn't _mention_ a boyfriend."

"Didn't he?" Quentin asks, turning to him with an eyebrow raise that would normally be accusatory but definitely reads as amused now.

"Well if you hadn't insisted on doing _homework_ instead of attending my _party_ maybe you would've been here to mention yourself."

"It's not easy to always attend _your parties_ when they happen every night," Quentin shoots back, eyes dancing.

Eliot leans down to press a kiss to his temple, pleased when Quentin's face scrunches up adorably under his touch. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Mike clears his throat. He looks annoyed; good. Anyone who can't handle rejection gracefully isn't worth his time anyway. "I'm gonna go get a drink," he says, and walks away without ceremony.

As soon as he's gone, the confidence seems to fade from Quentin; Eliot is sad to see it go. His hand still lingers on Eliot's back, though, and that does feel nice. "Sorry, um. Was that too much?"

"On the contrary," Eliot says, tossing a look over his shoulder to track Mike on his way to the kitchen, "I think any less would have just spurred him on further. Better keep it up, in case he decides to come back." He reaches out to smooth Quentin's hair and tuck it behind his ear—an impulse he might have resisted in different circumstances.

"Yeah, good idea," Quentin says a little breathily, then clears his throat. "How'd I do? Um, with the drink."

Eliot smiles. "Surprisingly well. There's hope for you yet." Quentin seems to shine with the praise, and Eliot ignores the tightness in his chest. "What was it that had you hiding out upstairs, if I may ask? Actually homework, or something else?"

"Oh, you know. The eternal battle between crowd anxiety and the fear of missing out."

"You can always stick with me, you know," Eliot says, leaning further into Quentin's space, milking this charade for all it's worth.

Quentin hums, smirking. "Not if you're busy flirting with cute alums," he says, leaning in toward Eliot in turn.

"Apparently even then," Eliot points out. They're dangerously close now, and if Eliot's not mistaken, Quentin's eyes have fallen to his lips. "Is he coming back?"

"Might be," Quentin murmurs. And that's good enough for Eliot, who can't resist the temptation any longer, pressing down to taste Quentin's bow-shaped lips.

Quentin goes a little stiff at first, and Eliot thinks he may have pushed it too far, but then Quentin hums and tilts his head, pressing into the kiss enthusiastically. It's all the encouragement Eliot needs to go wild, licking over the seam of Quentin's lips until they part for him, sliding his free hand into Quentin's hair as he kisses him with everything he's got. This will likely be his one and only opportunity to make out with his straight best friend, and as Quentin pushes closer, his tongue sliding against Eliot's with a perfect pressure, Eliot feels heat spread through him. _This is really happening_ , a tiny voice tells him, and Eliot surrenders himself to it, moaning a little as he presses his body tight against Quentin's.

When Quentin starts to pull away, Eliot goes to follow until he feels Quentin's hand on his chest, keeping him at a distance. "I think he's gone," Quentin says, ducking his head and letting his hair fall into his face. 

"Right." Eliot had forgotten their ruse, for a moment. He clears his throat slightly, searching for something to break the awkwardness, but before he can speak, Quentin's head darts around.

"Oh! There's Margo. I wanted to ask her about her research in weather magic."

Eliot lets him go, needing a minute to cool down himself. He rests his ass against the back of the couch and takes a deep breath. So… that happened. Quentin certainly knows about Eliot's crush now, no doubt about that. Eliot just hopes it doesn't change anything between them. The boyfriend ruse was Quentin's idea, after all. 

He's so lost in these thoughts that he doesn't notice Mike approach him again until he speaks. "You could've just told me you were taken, you know," he says, leaning against the back of the couch next to Eliot, not quite looking him in the eye. He takes a long pull on his beer as Eliot glances back, disinterested in continuing their conversation. When Mike speaks again, his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper. "Unless… you're looking for some extra fun on the side?"

"Excuse me?" Eliot says, standing up straighter, a spark of anger lighting into a flame on Quentin's behalf.

Mike shrugs, unaware of Eliot's mood shift. "C'mon. No one would blame you. He's cute and all, but he looks like he'd be kinda stuffy in bed."

Who the hell does this guy think he is? And did he _see_ that kiss? No one who witnessed that should think either of them are 'stuffy' in bed. Eliot doesn't care how loud his voice is as he responds, "Listen here, you little shit. What my boyfriend and I do in bed is none of your business, but lucky for me, your thirty-second judgment is way off track. He's adorable, he's _mine_ , and he's sexy as fuck when he lets his guard down."

"El?" Quentin asks, suddenly much closer, Margo in tow.

"Hey, babe," Eliot says, reeling him in with a hand on the back of his neck and planting one on him. He's putting on a show, yes, but he can't help surrendering to the fantasy, licking his way into Quentin's surprised mouth and making his breath stutter. Quentin looks a little dazed when he pulls away. Eliot squeezes his hand over the back of his neck before regarding Mike with a cool look. "I think you should go now."

Mike raises his eyebrows, undeterred. "Or we could talk about a threesome?"

"Alright, enough of you," Margo cuts in, magnanimous, before dragging Mike away by his ear. Eliot loves her so much.

Quentin moves away from his touch as soon as Mike is gone. Eliot tries not to let it hurt. With a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, Quentin says, "You should make me a drink. Apparently I'm sexy when my guard is down."

Eliot nods and leads them to the bar, trying to force himself to move on now that their little act is over. While he focuses on mixing ingredients, he continues, "You're sexy all the time, you know. It's just that confidence is a particularly good look on you."

Quentin laughs like it's a joke.

"I'm serious," Eliot says, breaking to meet Quentin's eye. "If you were my boyfriend, I wouldn't even consider flirting with dumbass alums."

"Yeah, alright," Quentin says, pursing his lips and dropping his gaze to the bar. Eliot finishes up the cocktail, happy to let the subject drop. He's exposed himself too much tonight already. "It's just—" Quentin continues suddenly, "—kinda hard to believe, because I'm not. Your boyfriend."

Eliot bites the inside of his mouth to ground himself, adding the garnish to Quentin's drink. "You could be," he says, because why the fuck not at this point? "If you decided to jump ship, switch teams; choose your metaphor. I'd be first in line."

He slides Quentin's drink over as a peace offering, but Quentin doesn't take it. His eyes are trained on Eliot, his expression shifting away from its shy mask to something fiercer, something with teeth. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Eliot opens his mouth to backtrack, to say whatever he needs to say to clear the anger from Quentin's face, but then Quentin is grabbing him by the tie, pulling him across the bar and crashing their lips together.

Their teeth collide painfully at first, the momentum too much, but Quentin just breathes a laugh and tries again, his lips gentle against Eliot's. Even though he has no idea what's going on, Eliot kisses back; he can't not. No matter what happens after tonight, at least Eliot will have three kisses to remember—two scorchingly hot, and one remarkably tender. Even with the awkward angle, the softness of this kiss, the way Quentin's lips are curved up slightly against his, has Eliot's chest constricting, his heart racing. "Who are we trying to convince now?" Eliot says with a shaky voice.

Quentin huffs, annoyed, and lets Eliot go so he can join him behind the bar. "You, apparently," he says, and reaches up to bracket Eliot's face in his hands.

Eliot's breath comes up short, looking down at Quentin's earnest expression, anticipating a fourth kiss even as Quentin pauses. He takes a second to process Quentin's words, and then a few more seconds, but he can't parse them. "What?" he finally says, licking his lips.

Quentin rolls his eyes, but he's smiling now. "Choose your metaphor: I'm on everyone's team, it's all one big ship, whatever. So if my supposed straightness was just an excuse, better come up with a new one now, because I'm super bisexual."

" _Fuck_ ," Eliot says, closing the distance between them even as he processes Quentin's words. He wraps his arms around Quentin's waist, pulling him flush against him, and Quentin laughs against his lips. They're not kissing so much as holding each other close, letting the giddiness of possibility wash over them. Eliot's blood is rushing in his ears as he realizes just how much he's been missing out on.

"I'm so mad at you right now," Quentin murmurs, dropping his hands to rest against Eliot's chest.

"You don't look mad," Eliot points out, mirroring his smile. "I'm mad at me too."

"Wanna go upstairs and make up for lost time?"

Eliot offers his arm. "I thought you'd never ask."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! <3


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